All That I've Got

My aunt greets me as I walk through the door.
“Hey baby, how was it? Are you okay? Is Bella doing alright?”
“Hey Jane, I’m fine. Bella’s actually doing great. The…funeral…it wasn’t so bad.”
I almost choked on the lie, but it was better then telling the truth. Right?

Well, I was right (for once). School on Monday was Hell. This was kind of strange, really. Instead of ignoring me, like they always do, everyone was saying hi to me, and were actually polite about it. I hope it doesn’t last after Friday. I can’t stand any more of this.
So, naturally, my first instinct after a crappy day of school was to go over to your place and vent. Only you weren’t home, and neither was Bella.
I was just turning toward home when I saw the park down the road. I made a beeline for the swing set.
As I sat swinging I remembered the two of us here, playing in the sand box, pushing each other down the slide. I smiled and remembered the time we both jumped off our swings, and I skinned my knee. It had hurt really badly, too. But then you came over and kissed it, and then the pain just vanished. We were so little then, and cute. Why did we ever stop coming here?
I remember again, this time with a frown.
It was in the fourth grade, do you remember? We were sitting on the swings (of course), just laughing and messing around. Then these middle school jerks (Seventh grade? Or eighth?) came over and started teasing us. I told them to can it (I always was the bold one), and then they really started in on me. You stood up for me, of course, and they surrounded you. You held you own, for a little while, I’ll give you that. But then they hit you (gave you a black eye, too). I got real angry then, and started wailing on one of them. Then you went for the other guy. We finally let go of them and made a run for it. We hadn’t come back here since.
I wonder what happened to those guys, don’t you? It’s been…eight years. Holy crow, eight years. Can you believe it?
I miss those times, when we were really young. With a pang I realize that, not only can we not go back, but we can’t make any new memories either.
The coldness seeps in, and I get up to walk home. I must have been out here longer than I thought, because it was darker and colder then before.
I sigh and start walking. Pushing the memories out of my brain, I wonder what’s for dinner.
Then a song pushes its way into my brain.

I dreamed I was missing /You were so scared
But no one would listen /Cause no one else cared
After my dreaming/ I woke with this fear
What am I leaving/ When I'm done here
So if you're asking me, I want you to know
When my time comes/ Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some/ Reasons to be missed
And don't resent me /And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest /Leave out all the rest
Of course Linkin Park would find this particular moment to worm its way into my thoughts.
My heart beat faster, and I felt my eyes sting. I would not remember. I will try my hardest to not remember those times I spent with you; which, yes, was basically my whole life. But I will try. I will no longer open old wounds. Or rather, I will not rip wider the already gaping holes.
But dammit, why did you leave?
Why did you leave me? Why now?
Why not after graduation, when we’ve finally escaped from this god-forsaken town?
But, God I cannot believe it has already been a week.
It seems like yesterday I was at your--no. Not thinking about it. I have had enough remembering this week at the guidance counselor’s office. Now I am trying to forget. Look, I know how this must make you feel, being forgotten and all. But it’s not like I want to forget. I kind of...have to. It hurts to remember. I’m sorry. If I could, I would remember, I would, but...I can’t. I never was quite as strong as you. So good-bye, I guess. For now.